


The Hot Springs Episode

by F00T



Series: The Takeover are #Soulmates [1]
Category: Pro Wrestling NOAH, Professional Wrestling, 新日本プロレス | New Japan Pro-Wrestling
Genre: Communication Failure, Fluff, Hot Springs & Onsen, M/M, Mutual Pining, Thighs, Vacation, hair petting, implied/referenced drunken antics, the takeover are soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-12
Updated: 2020-06-12
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:53:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24681127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/F00T/pseuds/F00T
Summary: The Takeover go to a hot spring and have feelings and actually take the time to establish what "soulmates" means to them.Set circa 2007 so Kenta is currently a top guy in Noah and Shibata has just started focusing on MMA.
Relationships: Hideo Itami | KENTA/Shibata Katsuyori
Series: The Takeover are #Soulmates [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1412200
Comments: 2
Kudos: 15





	The Hot Springs Episode

“You better not fall asleep there.”

“Why not? It’s comfortable.”

Kenta looked down at his friend stretched out on the floor between his legs, his head resting heavy on his thigh. As it became obvious that Shibata had no intention to move any time soon, Kenta pulled his free leg up into his chest and shifted his weight slightly, in hopes that it would prevent Shibata’s weight from cutting off circulation in his thigh.

“Comfortable for you, maybe,” he muttered.

He noticed the corners of Shibata’s mouth turn up slightly. “And yet you don’t push me off,” he said.

Kenta looked away and pretended to examine an extremely interesting spot on the far wall. He pulled the fabric of his thin cotton robe tighter around his body. It had been an unseasonably warm late spring day but, now that the sun had set, Kenta found their room at the ryokan a touch chilly.

He hadn’t thought Shibata would actually be interested in a long weekend vacation at a hot spring when he had brought up the idea, but Shibata had agreed immediately. He’d mentioned that the last time he’d been to one was on a school trip; perhaps, he’d said, it would be nice to go as an adult. When Kenta had asked why he hadn’t just found the time to go by himself - after all, with Big Mouth Loud closing and him starting to focus more on his mixed martial arts training, he’d often complained about how much more free time he had - Shibata didn’t have a concrete answer. Going on vacation just hadn’t felt like a priority, he’d said. At least, it hadn’t been one until Kenta had mentioned the four-night ryokan reservation he’d been offered as part of a cross-promotional deal for the Noah roster members. This vacation was one Shibata had time for. As he’d said on the phone, they hadn’t had many chances to see each other lately, especially with Misawa booking Kenta so heavily in recent years.

And yet, now that they were staying here together, Kenta was starting to regret inviting him in the first place.

Using his thigh as a pillow was only the most recent in a string of offenses. When Kenta had checked them in on arrival, the young staff member had paused, looked them both over and quietly asked if they needed two futons or one. Shibata hadn’t corrected her. When Kenta bristled and clarified that they would, in fact, be sleeping separately, the girl had turned beet-red and apologized profusely, slipping in a whispered remark that, while she and others working there were supportive, the owner didn’t want her resort to pick up a reputation as  _ that _ sort of establishment.

Shibata hadn’t reacted to that either. Kenta had been too flustered to ask him about it afterwards. 

How had she known just by looking at them? Another offense on Shibata’s part. Clearly, he must have done something to have tipped her off, though when Kenta tried to think of what that could have been, he had been completely at a loss.

It wasn’t as if they were  _ together _ . It had been a series of youthful indiscretions, several years prior, never questioned in the moment, and certainly never discussed after the fact. Kenta couldn’t remember which one of them had started it; had he been the one whose hand had brushed up against Shibata’s just a little bit too long, or was it the other way around? Who between them had wrapped their arm around the other’s waist first, just casually enough to maintain some plausible deniability? Who had held the other’s body just a hair closer than necessary when they experimented with grappling techniques? The specifics didn’t matter any more. All Kenta knew was that one night they had been drunk and his inhibitions had been low and Shibata didn’t react poorly when Kenta’s lips had brushed against his cheek as soon as they were alone. 

He hadn’t reacted at all. In Kenta’s opinion, that was almost worse.

It wasn’t the only time they had gotten drunk and he had sloppily attempted to make a move. Shibata had always politely tolerated it, never reciprocating but also never going out of his way to put a stop to it. He’d never done anything to lead Kenta to believe the feeling might be mutual, that he thought of him as more than just a close friend.

And now, here he was, napping on his thigh, as if that was a normal thing that friends did.

Correction: soulmates. They had both thrown the word around enough since they’d first met, both in the ring and outside it. Kenta just didn’t know if Shibata took it quite as literally as he did. 

Kenta sighed and looked down at his maybe-for-real-but-probably-not soulmate. For as long as he’d known him, Shibata had been quick to fall asleep and now was no exception. His head had tipped slightly to one side upon dozing off, his lips pursed and his brow furrowed. Kenta couldn’t help but be jealous that Shibata’s face barely softened even when unconscious. He remembered his time rooming in the dojo before his debut and how his fellow trainees would tease him for how adorable he looked when he slept.

Shibata had never mentioned how he looked when he slept, neither to tease nor to complement.

His face grew warm at the thought of Shibata thinking he was adorable. Surely, he didn’t. Kenta was sure he’d know by now if he did. And he didn’t.

Because Shibata Katsuyori was definitely, certainly, obviously asleep on his thigh platonically.

And once they had settled into their room, spending maybe fifteen minutes unpacking the suitcase they had agreed to share to save luggage space on the train ride to the resort, Shibata must have suggested they wait out the day’s heat in the men’s bath platonically as well. A perfectly logical suggestion, and one he appreciated wholeheartedly: Kenta always felt grimy after long train rides, especially when it was humid, so surely Shibata felt the same. 

The resort had looked empty when they had first arrived, which Kenta had attributed to them checking in midweek; the washroom for the onsen was no exception. As they stripped down, Shibata had commented about how they must have come at the right time since they appeared to be the only ones there right then. Kenta had laughed and cracked a joke about how Shibata should help him scrub his back so they could prove the presumptuous employee who’d checked them in right. 

When Shibata actually did it, that must have also been platonic, he thought.

Kenta hated to admit that he was good at it. Exceptionally so, even; that Shibata’s hands felt far nicer than his own as they soaped up his back and rinsed off the day’s accumulated sweat and dead skin. He worked quickly and didn’t say a word as he lathered him up, his hands strong and confident against his back. Shibata even made a point of avoiding a small bruise near his waist that was still tender after a bump he’d taken while training earlier that week. Part of him hoped that Shibata might give him the opportunity to reciprocate, as much as it flustered him, but he finished up in silence, washed himself, and told Kenta that he could join him in the outdoor spring if he’d like. 

Kenta wasn’t sure what to make of it. If by some freak chance Shibata’s behavior wasn’t platonic, it was definitely teasing. At the very least, it was yet another offense in his apparent plan to spend their whole vacation riling him up.

They had barely talked as they sat beside each other in the warm pool, the mineral-heavy water proving to be surprisingly refreshing against the afternoon humidity, despite its heat. Kenta glanced over occasionally at his friend and noticed that he had draped his hand towel across his forehead as he reclined against the edge of the pool, his eyes closed and clearly deep in thought. In retrospect, Kenta felt a pang of disappointment that he hadn’t caught Shibata checking him out as well.

Though why would he? Kenta knew Shibata didn’t like him like he did. 

“And yet you insist on teasing me like this,” Kenta said under his breath as he watched Shibata sleep.

Shibata stirred slightly against Kenta’s leg, his head rolling just so that, if he had been awake, he would have been eye level with Kenta’s crotch. He trembled at the thought. There was teasing and then there was  _ teasing _ : if he had been awake, that would have definitely crossed that line and Kenta wasn’t sure he knew how to respond to such a thing without taking the chance of permanently damaging their friendship.

Thankfully for him, Shibata was a heavy sleeper. Gently as he could manage, Kenta nudged Shibata’s head back into its original resting position. As he did, he couldn’t help but take the opportunity to comb his fingers through his friend’s hair. When he saw that his delicate touch didn’t disturb his nap, Kenta snuck another stroke, and another, and one more for good measure, running his fingers through the thick, dark hair on the top of his head. He grew bolder, attempting to slick back the shaggy fringe, still slightly damp from the hot spring water, covering Shibata’s forehead. He remembered once when he had asked Shibata why he never styled his hair like that outside of the ring. “I want it to mean something,” was all he had said. Kenta had accepted it, never letting on how much he found that answer disappointing. He had often thought Shibata’s slicked-back hair looked too handsome to save exclusively for his matches, now few and far between.

Kenta’s leg cramped, the involuntary twitch causing his sleeping friend’s eyes to flutter open. He jerked his hand away and hoped that Shibata didn’t notice how much he was blushing. If only the temperature hadn’t dropped: earlier in the day, he could have blamed the humidity for how red his complexion grew every time Shibata’s behavior vexed him.

“Why’d you stop?” Shibata mumbled as he repositioned himself.

Kenta looked away. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said.

“You were stroking my head. It felt nice.”

“Don’t get the wrong idea, Shibata-san.”

“I’m saying that you can keep doing it. I mean, if you want to.”

Kenta pulled his leg out from under his friend’s head and turned roughly away from him. “Fuck, can you just stop teasing me like this, Shibata-san? This trip was supposed to be relaxing but you’ve done nothing but make it awkward.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Do you not like it when-”

“Of course I don’t like it!” Kenta snapped. “Why the fuck would I like my friend mocking how I feel about him?”

Shibata was silent. Kenta heard the wooden floor creak as he sat up and scooted behind him. When his arm gingerly wrapped around Kenta’s shoulders, the gesture normally would have comforted him, but this time he pulled away. He didn’t need yet another instance of this man he had called his soulmate winding him up about this. Shibata didn’t try to put his arm back.

“Kenta-san, listen to me,” he said quietly. “I like you. You know that. Why would I mock you?”

“You don’t...fuck. You don’t like me the same way I like you,” Kenta said, his words trailing off into a whisper.

“What do you mean, ‘the same way’?”

“I mean I  _ like you _ like you! And you don’t! And any time I tried to show it, you never even reacted! And now you’re suddenly acting affectionate? How is that not making fun of the way I feel about you?” Kenta shot him a glare. “Did that ever even occur to y-”

“Did it ever occur to you that maybe I do like you like that, Kenta-san?” 

A blush burned across Kenta’s face. He whipped his head away. They sat in silence for several minutes, the air in the room now heavier than it had been from the humidity earlier in the day. Eventually, when Shibata tentatively worked his arm back up around Kenta’s shoulders, he let him keep it there.

“I’m still working through it,” Shibata eventually broke the silence. “My feelings, I mean. About you, Kenta-san.”

“Huh.”

“I mean, how I should show them to you, not that they’re there. All those times you asked if I would test out new moves with you? Or those times when we’ve gotten drunk and you face planted on me and I had to take you home? I always treasured those moments, but I was worried I would be taking advantage of you if the feeling wasn’t mutual.”

“So why not just reciprocate?” Kenta said.

“I tried that. Today. And all it did was make you upset.”

“I’m not upset, I’m just…”

“Confused?”

Kenta sighed. “Frustrated. With myself, I think. For reading too much into things. For letting our signals get crossed somewhere.”

“I’m glad we’re on the same page now,” Shibata said.

Kenta felt himself being pulled in closer and, for once, it didn’t feel like a joke. He had lost count of all the times he had felt Shibata Katsuyori’s hands on him: whether in the gym, or in the ring, or when they met for lunch or helped each other run errands or went running together at dawn or any of the million other times they had just slipped into each other’s lives as if it was the most natural thing in the world. Or if they had gone on a hot springs vacation together. Like lovers. 

“You know I was trying to kiss you all those times we were drunk,” Kenta said.

Shibata looked puzzled.

“You said I face planted on you. They were kisses, all of them, but apparently I missed,” he continued. “I guess you weren’t the only one sending mixed signals all this time, huh.”

“Apparently. And I guess you forgot what happened after all of them then?”

“You said you helped me get home. Those nights are pretty fuzzy, so I guess I blacked out.”

“Mmm, that makes sense,” Shibata said. “Every time you collapsed on me like that, I took it as a sign you should call it a night, so I’d walk you home. Carried you a few times, if you started getting belligerent. I’d get you in bed and, well, I’d stay with you for a little bit.”

“You watched me sleep.”

“Only long enough to make sure you didn’t get sick!”

Kenta chuckled and leaned against Shibata’s shoulder. The fabric of his yukata was smooth against his cheek. Shibata had mentioned long before that he had no particular interest in the clothing he wore, just as long as it covered all the necessary parts, but Kenta liked how the thin robe draped over his broad shoulders and accentuated how straight he stood. They had both packed enough clothes for their stay, just in case they decided to explore town outside the ryokan, but Kenta wondered how much convincing it would take to keep Shibata from breaking out any of his baggy jeans and oversized tee shirts the entire trip. 

“Hey,” Kenta asked. “How did I look when I slept? When you watched me back then, I mean.”

Shibata thought for a moment.

“Adorable. Hmm, that sounds about right.”

**Author's Note:**

> This was initially inspired by a headcanon I tweeted about a few weeks ago about young Shibata and Kenta getting extremely heated over ping-pong on a hot springs vacation and getting kicked out of the resort because of it. And then I couldn't figure out how to actually work that in, OOPS.


End file.
